fingers entwining themselves in his beautiful, wavy salt-and-pepper hair.
She felt his urgency, the pressing hardness, as his hands groped upward along her thighs, knowing as she opened to him how deeply she wanted him to take her and enter her as she engulfed him. Just as she touched him she felt the shuddering response in herself, startling in its ferocity, like thousands of caressing fingers on every nerve.
His sudden disengagement surprised her, a wrenching movement, and a moment later she heard what had apparently startled him, the front door opening. She was on her knees immediately, straightening her clothes as she kneeled, fussing with the gifts, not turning when she sensed Barbara behind her. Her heart had leaped to her throat and Oliver had moved into the shadows behind the armoire, just out of her vision.
'That, you, Ann?' Barbara called. Ann turned briefly in response.
'Just rearranging the gifts.'
She felt Barbara's eyes on her back. Please don't let her go any further, she begged, invoking God.
'I'm dead on my feet,' Barbara said. 'Did you finish the mix for the pastry meat loaves?'
'Yes.'
'Kids not home yet?' 'Not yet.'
'Well, tomorrow is Christmas. I dread it.'
Ann could feel the tension in the room. She held her breath, frightened that Barbara might want to talk. She did not think she could bear it.
'Better get some sleep.' Barbara yawned, backing away. With relief, Ann listened to Barbara's footsteps ascending the stairs. It was only after the bedroom door had closed that Oliver stepped from the shadows.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered.
Reaching out, Ann grabbed his hand and kissed the center of the palm. He quickly drew it away in what seemed like a gesture of rejection. Or rebuke. He tiptoed into the foyer, opening the front door, creating the impression that he had just come into the house. He hurried up the stairs. Straining to listen, she heard him turn the lock of his door.
She stayed in the library a long time, kneeling on the floor before the Christmas tree. Had Barbara seen them? She would not let such speculation intrude on her happiness.
Her eyes drifted upward toward the weak, flickering lights. It was only then that she realized that she had not reminded him to fix them.
13
The smell of burning had set off a reaction in his dreaming mind, suggesting fire and recalling a Boy Scout episode when a fire had gotten out of hand and burned down a country cabin. He was on his feet in a moment, bursting through the doorway, running down the steps in his bare feet.
The branches were smoldering and the flames were just beginning to sprout like orange needles among the green. He kept an extinguisher in a closet under the stairs. Grabbing it, he rushed back to the library, where the flames had already begun to eat away at the paper wrappings of the gifts.
Upending the extinguisher, he squirted the foam in large white arcs on the creeping flames.
'Daddy.' It was Eve behind him, stifling a scream.
'Get back,' he responded. The flames were quickly under control. But a foul, smoky smell permeated the room as he continued to pour out the contents of the extinguisher until the fire was out.
'The damned lights,' he cried. 'I should have fixed the lights.'
'You've ruined everything.' It was Barbara's voice, filled with anger.
'What was I supposed to do?' he shot back. 'Let the whole house burn down?'
'You knew they weren't working right. You knew they were dangerous.'
He dropped the extinguisher, banging it on the floor, and glared at her.
'I suppose I'm being accused of ruining everybody's Christmas.'
Eve and Josh had begun to poke through the remains. Most of the gifts were charred or utterly destroyed. Oliver had bought Josh a pair of binoculars, which the heat had bent out of shape.
'Well, it was a nice thought, Dad,' Josh said, holding up the distorted object.
'I'll get you another pair,' Oliver said.
'What did you get me, Dad?' Eve asked quietly, wiping her soot-stained hands on her robe.
'According to your mother, a not-so-merry Christmas.' He looked at Barbara, who turned away in contempt. I saved their lives, he thought, his eyes briefly flickering as they caught some sympathy in Ann's. She had just come into the room.
'Isn't it ghastly, Ann?' Eve said.
'Merry Christmas, one and all,' Josh said, holding up his binoculars and smiling at the scorched tree. Orange shafts of the early sun had begun to filter through the windows.
'I guess there's nothing left to do but clean up,' Barbara said, striding into the mess and beginning to sort out the remains. The Sarouk rug was sooty but not burned and the children rolled it away from the tree.
'I hope you didn't cancel our fire insurance as well,' Barbara muttered as he stood around clumsily.
'Fuck Christmas,' he said angrily, striding out of the room. He detested her attempt to make him feel guilty.
